


A Strong Wind

by Tabithian



Series: Port of Call [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-01-06
Packaged: 2018-05-12 06:56:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5656909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabithian/pseuds/Tabithian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“This is familiar,” Tim is saying, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering. “Where have I – Oh, <i>right</i>, the last time we came out here, that's right.”</p><p>Look.</p><p>Jason's ship is a clunky bucket of rust and there's not a moment something isn't about to break on her, but she's gotten Jason out of too many scrapes to just scrap her. (There are times like now, though, when he wonders if he's just being an idiot about things.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Strong Wind

**Author's Note:**

> [Clarityhiding made a comment](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5641900/comments/48612892) , right? And then I was like *screeches* and then this happened. 
> 
> *hands*

Tim has this supplier, an old family friend from what Tim's told Jason. Someone they met on their trip a while back who just sort of ended up entwined in their lives, became that oddball uncle to Tim. 

Jason's seen some of the stuff the guy sends to Tim for his birthdays, weird little objects and bizarre gadgets that Tim never really knows what to do with. Some end up in Tim's shops to amuse the customers, others just end up cluttering up Tim's little apartment over the shop. Even more of them end up being stolen by one of the strays, dragged off to their hoards and fiercely guarded like some kind of rare treasure.

Tim likes the guy well enough, and the guy's the sort who's always willing to cut Tim a deal on stock for his shop in exchange for a bit of news on what Tim's parents are up to now and how Tim's shop is doing, that kind of thing.

And that's fine, it's great, except that the guy's a little leery of Jason because of a minor incident the first time they met that ended up kind of wrecking the guy's place. Tim never lets Jason forget this, the little shit, even though Jason had been trying to do Tim a favor, save him some money on shipping fees.

So on the rare occasion one of Jason's routes happens to pass through the guy's system around the time Tim's looking to put in orders for his shop, Jason gains a passenger for the trip.

Small, mouthy, pain in Jason's ass.

“This is familiar,” Tim is saying, fighting to keep his teeth from chattering. “Where have I – Oh, _right_ , the last time we came out here, that's right.”

Look. 

Jason's ship is a clunky bucket of rust and there's not a moment something isn't about to break on her, but she's gotten Jason out of too many scrapes to just scrap her. (There are times like now, though, when he wonders if he's just being an idiot about things.)

“Shut up,” Jason mutters, and pulls Tim closer, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, emergency blanket crinkling and generally being this side of irritating. 

Tim's Tim, though, and he just keeps going. 

“Roy told you to take her in to get the engines looked at after your last run,” Tim says, and if there's any anger in it, or accusation, it's the kind that's worried about Jason and not so much himself. Adds softly, “We're just lucky this happened in an inhabited system.”

Jason leans his head against Tim, swallows back that little surge of fear, panic, at the thought because Jason - 

Jason takes the jobs most freighter pilots like him avoid like the plague because they're generally a smart bunch, big on self-preservation.

Jason, though.

He's got some issues, and taking a busted up ship like this one out on the back cargo lanes, the ones that don't cross into inhabited systems all that often is kind of like a challenge to himself. (Look, here he is, no running away for this idiot.)

And now look at him, huddling for warmth with Tim after the environmental controls gave up the ghost with a wheezing little gasp.

Tim's right, this did happen the last time they were here, but they'd had sub-light then, limping their way slowly towards an Enforcer station.

This time heat's gone, temperature dropping, and whatever breathable air is left is in here with them, shunted and bypassed and gimmicked to hell and back, the only spot left in the ship with power. 

The only reason he took this route was because Tim was with him, otherwise Jason would have taken one of his usual ones, and that - 

Well. 

Good news is the distress beacon is transmitting, screaming out a call for help through the void of space. Bad news is, help might not get there in time for all that there's pretty heavy traffic through this system.

Jason takes a breath and holds it for a moment, thinking.

There are cryo chambers, just off the tiny little medbay for long trips. Most pilots don't bother since it can get pretty pricey, but there are always a few routes, jobs, that make them necessary.

Jason pays the shipwrights to keep them up to spec, make sure they're within safety parameters, but damned if he ever gets close enough to check for himself. Doesn't even open the dam door to the alcove they're kept in, just passes on by and tries not to think about it.

Bad memories, the kind that steals years of your life from you and have people believing you're dead when you're stuck in a a damn cryo chamber in a drifting wreck somewhere people wouldn't think to look

“Jason.”

Jason opens his eyes – didn't realized he's closed them – and carefully, carefully eases up the hold he's got on Tim. Tries to put room between them, but Tim's _Tim_.

“Hey, no,”Tim says, hands running over Jason's side. “It's going to be fine, okay? We've got enough air for hours yet, we're going to be fine.”

If they don't freeze to death first, and Christ, Jason should have shoved Tim into one of the cryo chambers when everything went to hell. (Assuming Tim wouldn't have fought him on it the whole way, which he would have. Loudly and vehemently, wasting precious air and breaking Jason's heart with it.)

“Jason.”

“I'm thinking of getting a new ship,” Jason says, feeling Tim threading his fingers through his, breathing slow and even and knowing Jason's going to follow his lead. “Something that doesn't break down on me every week.”

Not fair, really, to his ship, but.

She's old, most of her line have been decommissioned years ago, scrapped or rusting away in a salvage yard somewhere. Jason's ship is flying through sheer stubbornness and whatever fixes Roy can scrape together.

Stupid, really, to keep her going like this.

“Yeah?” Tim says, giving Jason's hand a little squeeze. “I have a friend - “

Jason snorts, leaning against Tim who presses back, gleam of his smile Jason can just see as he talks, tells Jason about one of the million and one friends, contacts, he has scattered all across the galaxy while they wait for someone to pick up the distress beacon.

********

They end up getting picked up by an Enforcer patrol and end up in one of the medical centers for observation. 

Tim sleeps, a lot. Huddled in several blankets, little tuft of hair poking out and irritated grumbling when Jason checks to make sure the little shit hasn't managed to suffocate himself in there.

Jason's not doing a hell of a lot better, but he's upright and shambling on force of will and that little part of him that feels vulnerable like this. That looks at Tim and snarls, like one of Tim's strays gone protective of the little shit.

That, and there's the matter of Jason and Tim's paperwork that's all fucked up right now thanks to the fantastic combination of a translation and clerical errors and oh God, when Tim finds out he's never going to let Jason live this down.

It's just.

Dialects are tricky things, and when you're half-dead things can get a little muddled, confused. (You might end up saying the wrong thing when someone asks what the nature of your relationship is with your fellow popsicle.)

That's something to worry about later, though, Jason's just trying to get through his vid call with Alfred at the moment.

“Master Jason.”

Jason winces, straightening out of his slouch as Alfred levels him with one of his disapproving looks.

Jason doesn't get how it's as effective over a vid call as it is in person, but puts it down to this being Alfred he's talking to.

“Hey, Alfred.”

Alfred just looks at him, eyebrow going up as he takes in Jason's current state. 

“It looks worse than it is?” Jason offers, and gets Alfred's unimpressed look.

“Indeed,” Alfred says, amused quirk to his mouth. 

Jason won't admit to anything like disappointment. He knows Bruce is a busy man and Dick's job keeps just as busy, but.

Bruce, the stupid bastard, is still listed on Jason's paperwork along with Dick and Alfred, even with the little clusterfuck that Jason's going to have to tell Tim about at some point.

“If I may,” Alfred says after a moment, I would like to offer my congratulations, belated as they may be,” Alfred says, absolutely no mercy in him, “on your marriage.”

Jason stares at Alfred, who is just so damned amused by all this.

“Thanks,” he croaks out. “It means a lot.”

Tim is going to kill him, and Bruce and Dick are going to make Jason _suffer_ when they find out about this.

Alfred smiles, one of the ones Jason loves to see – when it's not directed at him.

“Indeed.”

**Author's Note:**

> :D?


End file.
